Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 146 No. 4 — page 129: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

O: of a lot of bullying from two men! =. ete >! > a & i e - , 7 Johnny put his hand on his forehead and thought hard. “No, ma’am, not a thing. [I just re- member * town,’ if you know what I mean; but I don’t remember anything adout the town.” “ OF course! I know just what you do mean, dear boy. But how about any play- mates—don’t you remember any Jacks, or Toms, or Harrys that you used to play with?”’ “TLet’s see,” said the lad; “let’s see. Jack—no. Tom, Harry? No, ma’am. It’s all gone clean out of my head.” “But you said that there was a ball team there, and my husband told me that he knew it was a white house, and that there was an iron dog in the front yard.” “Ts that so? JI don’t remember the house and the dog, but I do remember the ball park. Sure I do! I got hit on the head out there—gee, it was a peach of a clout. It was a big day—Fourth of July, or Decoration Day, and there was such a crowd that the field was crowded and the stands full. I was standing right behind the third base line, and a low foul got me right smack on the napper.” “* Ah!” said Mrs, Osborne, and Spring- time and Osborne could see her stiffen. “ You were struck on the head!” “Was 1? Gee, I was cold most of the day, and when I did come to, I didn’t know what had happened to me. I carried a goose egg under my ‘hat for a week!” Mrs. Osborne held Johnny off at arm’s length and ran her hand over his head. She was bristling with interest and pity. “My poor, poor boy!” Osborne at this juncture coughed and got into motion. His wife immediately flew to him and dragged him and Springtime off out of range of Johnny’s ears. “He can’t remember!” she whispered. “ I knew there was something strange about that boy the moment I laid eyes on him. He’s not normal—his head is asymmetrical from a blow he received in childhood. What he needs is medical attention instead An operation to relieve the pressure on his em. are weans tee ger: jamb, clors not where he lives!” THE BIRD OF PASSAGE. Soxiafind, dni dele 50 | emotions, and Johnny slapped him in the middle of the back. ‘Springtime! You snitcher! What do you mean by running away without me? Gee, I had my face all set for a spell on the rods, and then you drift and leave me be- hind. It ain’t been so bad, though,” said Johnny with an impish grin. ‘“ Gosh, this house is easy! A guy could get away with murder, wipe up the blood, bury his own dead, and never get caught. But what’s the dope? Did you get a pitcher?” ‘Sure I did. Durk.” “ Durk!” yelled Johnny. ‘“ Good old Durk! Sure Id like to see that guy! He’s a great gun, Springtime; he’s a card, and no mistake! Lead me to him.” ‘Lead yourself, you double-barreled lit- tle liar. I heard the stuff you were spilling to the missis! Durk’s at the Railroad House.” CHAPTER XVI. BIG SIX. HAT the State House Massacre is in the history of Boston; what the ringing of the Liberty Bell is in Philadelphia, that post-season game is in the chronicles of Napoleon. The day dawned bright and clear as only October days can be. The crowd that filled the ball park contained every able-bodied man, woman, and child from all but the key indastsies of the two cities. Tom Os~ borne had secretly engaged a band from a larger neighboring city, which, with a slight alteration on caps, collars, and bass drum, became the Napoleon Premier Band. Springtime’s fears for Durkin had be- come somewhat softened as he had watched the pitcher working out on the diamond. That he was a good ball player there could — be no doubt—and that first sense of appre- hension had slowly vanished as the days went by and he saw no signs of any un-— steadiness in his protégé. He and Durkisi: stood at the entrance to the dr ‘room, | watching the crowd drift in, and in ¢ th ‘tal man’s eye there wollte books. dl tempt as he receivsoiilidhieLs